All Screwed Up
by LaughterNeverDies
Summary: In the throes of war, aboard the S.H.E.I.L.D heli-carrier, and with the crippling pressure of everyone's hopes carried on their shoulders, two brilliant Avengers form an unlikely bond which will challenge everything they know. But with Loki closing in, Bruce Banner and Tony Stark have to battle their own demons to discover what it is they've really been fighting for...
1. Chapter 1

**Problem Child**

"You have got to be kidding me." Tony muttered as he strode purposefully into his room aboard the S.H.E.I.L.D. aircraft carrier. It was small, his room, and dark. He growled angrily under his breath and flicked on the light to survey his cramped surroundings. There was a double bed; he should be glad of that at least. The genius threw down his holdall and flopped gracelessly onto the bed, throwing his limbs out at all angles and letting out a moan of exhaustion.

He should call Pepper; he had promised her before she left but everything had been such a rush. Tony realised that he wasn't even certain what time it was. He rolled onto his side and gazed bleary-eyed at the digital clock set on the bedside table. Before his weary mind could register what his eyes were seeing there was a cough at the ridiculously high tech sliding door to his room. The door was rather unbelievable given the decidedly low tech quality of his room.

"Settling in?" The deep rumbling baritone of his recently acquired colleague was already familiar to him.

"Brucie! So nice of you to drop by my mansion here," Tony mumbled into the duvet. "Although you know what would be even nicer?"

"I can't imagine." Bruce Banner replied with a crooked smile, ambling into the room in what Tony had already established was his characteristic self-conscious manner. It was as though Bruce was paranoid of moving too suddenly or knocking everything over, like he had already changed into that great beast and was scared of breaking something, or someone.

"What would be even nicer is a freakin shower, man, or sleep, don't even remember what that feels like."

Banner chuckled softly to himself, clasping and unclasping his hands nervously. "Still, it's better than my room." The scientist muttered with a frown furrowing his brow.

"Yeah, how so?" Tony said, rolling onto his back and motioning for Bruce to sit beside him. "Take a pew Monster Man. Even the beast has to rest."

A flicker of repressed hurt passed across Bruce's features, but it came so briefly that Tony in his relaxed state hardly had a chance to notice it before the look was gone again.

"Well for one, all the walls of my room are reinforced with solid steel." Bruce pointed out. "Turns out Mr Fury doesn't trust me as completely as he's led me to believe."

Tony chewed his lip thoughtfully, "Well, that sucks. I guess that's got to be some kind of reassurance though? In case you can't-" here Tony mimed an explosion, "keep it all in you know?"

"I guess so" there was that weak little smile again.

Tony sat up so that the two men were sitting side by side. He flinched as their thighs brushed briefly. "Whoa, Banner you're...hot" he marvelled at the heat of the other man's touch curiously.

The older man gave an awkward laugh and rubbed a hand over his own bicep thoughtfully. "You flatter me Mr Stark," he grinned. Tony rolled his eyes. "I've always been hot blooded, in every sense of the phrase." Bruce elaborated, casting his eyes down momentarily. Tony nodded, trying to dispel the unnerving sensation of feeling the other man's skin burn beneath his, and the even more worrying shock of pleasure he received from it, and from thinking about all that pent up energy and the intensely passionate and unstable nature Mr Banner concealed within his own body. He wondered briefly how many of The Hulk's characteristics Bruce Banner already possessed.

"Uh, Tony?"

"Yeah"

"You can get your hand off my thigh now..."

Tony lifted his hand warily with an apologetic smile.

"Well it's getting late so..." Bruce began after a pregnant pause, leaving his statement unfinished.

"Yeah, right, see ya tomorrow" Tony rushed hurriedly, rubbing the nape of his neck awkwardly as Bruce stood and backed out of the door with a few mumbled apologies and mentions of 'good night'.

"Good night Mr Banner" Tony called after him, flopping back down onto the bed. He didn't even bother to undress, simply flicking the light switch by his bedside and letting the darkness enfold him in her comforting embrace.

Tony lay awake for some time, imagining various scenarios in which Bruce had the potential to turn into the beast. Of course the potential was always there, the monstrous side of himself the scientist concealed was liable to show it's brutish green face at any given moment, but it was just all about finding the right stimulant...

The ethereal white glow of the Ark Reactor in his chest illuminated a small portion of the room and Tony Stark sighed and rolled onto his stomach. The device was rather intriguing, but intrigue quickly turned to irritation when Tony tried to get some sleep with his own personal night light pulsating inside his chest. He smothered the light with the mattress and shut his eyes. In a way the Ark Reactor was as much a part of him as The Hulk was to Banner, ingrained within their very flesh. Bruce was as dependant on his alter-ego as Tony was on the piece of technology which was constantly working to pull pieces of shrapnel away from his heart. He supposed that like the rest of The Avengers, they were damaged and faulty human beings who could never thrive in the outside world because they were just too different. Thor especially.

Stark shook his head against the pillow and willed sleep to take him. It was late, or rather, it felt late.

As Tony Stark lay in the double bed in his room aboard the S.H.E.I.L.D. aircraft carrier, the clock on his bedside table continued to blink the time of 6:27pm.

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In his dream, Tony was flying. He wasn't wearing the Iron Man suit. He was naked.

It was a spectacularly freeing sensation, the gentle ripple of the wind against bare skin, and the heat of the sun bearing down on him, life giving and nourishing.

And then there were hands, hot and welcoming, caressing his face, his chest. The genius sighed as fingertips traced his jaw...

Tony Stark woke suddenly, his heart stuttering a frantic rhythm as he struggled to untangle his limbs from the twisted bed linen. A sheen of sweat glistened on his bare chest when he removed his shirt. The dream had been too vivid, too real. He lifted a hand to his mouth and touched his lips carefully, remembering all too well the tender brush of Dr Bruce Banner's lips against his own...

Along the corridor, the doctor stirred in his sleep. In his dream, he was flying.

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**Hope you enjoyed it! Any reviews will be very gratefully received if you have the time! Thank you for reading x**


	2. Chapter 2

**Live Wire**

Bruce checked the mirror just before he left, smoothing his hair down a bit after such a rough night. The doctor's frown deepened just a little more every time he found another grey hair. Given the fact that he was almost entirely, and as he saw it, rather unfairly grey by this point, his brow was perpetually furrowed in an expression of concern and mild irritation.

He sighed; still it was better being stuck in an aging body than becoming the beast again. Bruce was decidedly pissed off that the Other Guy seemed to have a perfectly fine head of black hair, and here he was growing older and more alone.

Bruce Banner liked solitude, welcomed it, even, but there were times when he craved the company of another human being. Sometimes it was just for the simple act of holding a conversation with someone other than himself. Granted, he wasn't a great conversationalist, but sometimes the isolation and pure loneliness would take him by surprise. Bruce remembered even calling up the operator on a grubby motel phone just to hear that stagnant voice, some sign of life outside the room where he had locked himself for fear of an 'incident'. It had been over a year now without the big guy rearing his ugly head, but still Bruce could feel him in there, clawing at the very fabric of his being, biding his time.

It was for this very reason that the doctor strapped on the old wrist watch, comforted by the familiar weight of it. He hoped it still worked; he hadn't needed it in so long. Bruce watched the little digital numbers jump to life, counting each pulse of his old heart. Level, calm. He wished it wasn't necessary, but he couldn't afford an incident in an enclosed space such as this.

When he exited his own little room in the aircraft carrier, Bruce rolled his shoulders and took a deep breath. He could do this. It wasn't as though the others were any more normal than he was.

As Bruce made his way towards the centre of the craft, he passed Natasha Romanoff carrying a cup of coffee. It made everything seem slightly more domestic, more comfortable somehow, to see this professional assassin who could choke a man to death with her thighs, sipping a hot beverage from a polystyrene cup.

She nodded to him politely, "Mr Banner, good to see you looking refreshed." Bruce had never been particularly good with women, especially those who looked like Miss Romanoff, and so he gave a weak little smile and tried to return the greeting, not meeting her eyes. He desperately wanted to complement her on her hair or the fact that he would quite gladly jump in front of a speeding train at a moment's notice just to get her attention. He settled for "Hey".

At the junction between the seemingly endless corridors they parted ways. Bruce stole a quick glance at Natasha's retreating behind as she sashayed around the corner, and he sighed.

He didn't greet Tony as he walked into the lab, simply nodding in his general direction and getting to work. The doctor kept his head down and began typing information into the computer, trying desperately not to catch Tony's eye. Between them Loki's sceptre glowed ominously, and the air seemed to hum with tension, both from the repressed power of the crystal embedded in the artefact, and the undeniable awkwardness which smothered the two men.

"Mr Banner," Tony's brusque tone broke the ice and Bruce looked up to find his colleague balancing a laptop on one knee and a rather dangerous looking mess of wires in his hand while the other held onto the edge of the table for support. "A little help, if you please" Tony called almost desperately as the laptop began to fall. Bruce darted across the room and caught it at the last second, a giddy grin threatening to split his cheeks as Tony placed his hand on the other man's arm and righted the piece of equipment, his fingers brushing Bruce's hesitantly, as though he was gauging his reaction. "That's some fancy bleeper you've got there Bruce," The genius commented in an offhand manner, gesturing to Bruce's wrist while busying himself with the technology he had so closely avoided breaking.

Doctor Banner cast his eyes down, fiddling with the watch which only now slowed its incessant beeping which had begun as Bruce's heart rate jumped up when he sprinted across the room. The scientist felt his heart thudding steadily in his chest, and he laid a hand over his ribcage as though he was trying to still the pulsing organ beneath his skin. To his surprise Tony made a move as though he was going to cover Bruce's hand with his own warm palm, but the gesture was diverted at the last moment and Tony ran an awkward hand through his hair.

Bruce nodded again, returning wordlessly to his station and beginning to take notes on the sceptre as he observed it, pulsing with energy. Tony cleared his throat and set down his equipment, busying his hands with the task of re-wiring some technical looking circuits Bruce could never hope to understand. Gamma radiation was his thing, and it was a field he was happy to stay put in thank-you-very-much. As he watched Tony's dexterous fingers work skilfully on the technology, he couldn't help but imagine how it might feel to let them roam across the surface of his flesh, to take the harsh rake of blunt nails over his delicate skin, let them dig into the knot of muscle in his shoulder blades, to feel Tony's thumbs pressed into the dip in his hips as they bucked against his body...

Tony looked up as Bruce tried frantically to mop up the cup of coffee he had somehow just managed to spill all over his desk.

"I'm OK!" Bruce called as he wiped a cloth over the surface of the table and knelt to soak up the brown puddle on the floor.

"What's the matter Doctor? Got your head in the clouds?" Tony asked mildly, watching Bruce struggle.

_Yeah. _Thought Bruce, _or in the gutter. _He smiled. "Something like that."

"That sure looked like some pretty decent fantasy you were having there." Tony commented. Bruce blushed furiously.

"Uh, it's nothing..." He feigned in embarrassment.

"Bullshit. Who's the girl?" The other man pressed on persistently. Bruce hesitated, casting his eyes down awkwardly. "Hey, or guy, no judgement." Tony atoned, "I've been known to dabble, no shame in it." There was a moment of silence as Bruce processed this in interest.

"If you don't mind, it's kind of private." Bruce said more harshly than he meant. Tony appeared not to pick up on this sudden change in mood and shrugged nonchalantly.

"Each to their own," He replied, and went back to his work. Bruce remained staring at him for a moment before picking up his notepad and pen and settling down to write...

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